


My Heart Will Go On (I Think)

by Estrella3791



Series: Ineffable Husbands AU Week 2020 [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Titanic, Angst, Coercion, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel is absolutely despicable, I mean what were we expecting it's the Titanic, Ineffable Husbands AU Week 2020, Male Crowley (Good Omens), but also aghck, holy cow, major character discorporation, watch yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estrella3791/pseuds/Estrella3791
Summary: Aghck.This one's darker, guys. Sad. Upsetting. (Take care of yourselves.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands AU Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942321
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	My Heart Will Go On (I Think)

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting as its own work.

Aziraphale’s heart has sunk so low that she’s pretty sure it’s tangled in her stomach.

Her mood is a sharp contrast to everyone else boarding the ship, all of whom are deliriously happy. Excitement is tangible in the air. 

After all, who _wouldn’t_ be excited to be boarding the great ocean liner Titanic? It’s big and bright and beautiful and, as they've all been informed, unsinkable.

Aziraphale, who is miserably handing over her ticket and is also, incidentally, an angel of the Lord, knows better.

She’d been rather charmed by all the talk of the ‘unsinkable’ ship, to be honest. The humans’ confidence in their handiwork is always endearing, in her opinion.

Heaven did not think so.

She’s been tasked with making sure the Titanic sinks mid-journey, and she feels ill every time she thinks about it. She resisted this assignment more than she’s ever resisted anything. But she had no allies in her fight, and the higher-ups won, as they always do, and she can’t help wondering if this really is what the Highest Up would want. Surely She wouldn’t be in favour of drowning all of her children?

Images of an ark and a unicorn and dismayed golden eyes flash in front of hers, and Aziraphale forces herself to focus on the present, in which a voice is shouting “Aziraphale!” 

She turns to find Crowley weaving his skillful way through the crowd towards her, looking absolutely delighted. 

“Hullo!” he says once he’s within earshot. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Aziraphale asks instead, unwilling to answer the question.

“‘M only here for the ride,” says Crowley, beaming, clearly caught up in the thrill of it all. “Built all this themselves, angel, can you believe it? Humanity - best idea She ever had, don’t you think?”

“Yes, quite,” say Aziraphale, clutching her bag and praying she doesn’t lose her lunch. And they haven’t even put out to sea yet.

“Here, let me take that,” says Crowley, snatching it out of her grasp before she can properly protest. “You’re looking a bit peaky.”

“Oh, no,” says Aziraphale, “I’m feeling fine.”

“If you say so,” says Crowley cheerfully, “but I’m going to carry it anyway.”

He is _very_ excited about this boat, thinks Aziraphale wretchedly, and wishes fervently that she weren’t so much of a coward, that Falling didn’t scare her as much as it does, that she’d fought Gabriel harder. 

Too late now.

*

Crowley shows her to her room, chattering about the ship and how big it is and what’s on it and who’s on it and Aziraphale grows more and more upset about what she has to do. 

She lets Crowley show her _around_ the room, too, regaling her with information about the bunk, the mirror, the bathroom. She lets him lead her up to the deck, watches him close his eyes and inhale ocean air, watches him smile to himself as children scamper past them, laughing.

And the whole time she knows, she _knows_ , that she’s going to be sinking this ship in a few days, and it makes her absolutely sick.

But it would make her sicker for Crowley to know what she’s going to do, so she forces a smile when he turns to look at her, grin stretching from ear to ear, eyes bright with excitement, and prays to be given the strength to do what she has to do.

*

Except she can’t do it. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t. She comes to this conclusion right around the time that she sees Crowley listening intently to a little girl who is telling him why the boat is floating. (It involves a lot of fairies and a few mermaids and is not very scientifically accurate but you’d never know from the serious ‘mmhmm’ and ‘really?' noises Crowley is making.) When the girl is finished explaining, he surreptitiously snaps his fingers and presents her with a mermaid doll which is sporting sparkly purple hair and a long orange tail. The bright colours and plush sturdiness of it are all are well before their time, and Aziraphale can’t stop herself from beaming at him as the girl runs off to show her new toy to her mother. 

“That was quite sweet,” she says.

Crowley promptly turns forty shades of red and sputters a lot of incoherent things that eventually turn into, “Shut up.” 

Aziraphale does, but keeps smiling at him, because she can’t help herself, and then feels guilty, because he’s a demon, and the whole time she knows with absolute certainty that she can’t do it. She cannot sink this ship and end all these lives.

She simply _cannot_.

*

But Gabriel can make her, and she learns this in the most horrible way possible. She is on the deck late one night, enjoying the fresh sea air and feeling like an awful angel, which is how she feels most of the time, these days, when there’s the unmistakable sound of someone threading themself through time and space. She turns to her left, smiling, fully expecting to see Crowley (he’s so silly, she thinks fondly, to insist on doing things the miraculous way when he could just use the stairs) but instead finding the cold violet eyes of the Archangel Gabriel. 

“Why is this ship still above water, Aziraphale?” he asks, voice dangerously level.

“Oh, Gabriel!” says Aziraphale, well aware that her attempt at surprise and innocence leaves a lot to be desired. “I was wondering if you’d - ”

“It’s been five days,” says Gabriel, voice still dangerous but not quite as level. 

“I realize that,” says Aziraphale, unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice, “but I’ve been - ”

“We _told_ you not to wait,” says Gabriel. He’s losing his calm. “We _told_ you that it was time sensitive. It has to happen - ”

“But why can’t we wait?” asks Aziraphale desperately, interrupting Gabriel for the first time possibly ever. “Why couldn’t we wait until it’s closer to shore and more - ”

“No!” says Gabriel, and he is in fact glaring at this point. “Aziraphale, we know you like the humans, but you _cannot_ let your emotions get in the way of your tasks. Angels are not supposed to _have_ emotions. _Now do the job_.”

“Couldn’t you do it for me?” says Aziraphale, aware that she’s pleading at this point and hating herself for letting it happen at all but she can’t, she can’t - 

“Aziraphale,” says Gabriel, and he’s in her personal space and she can’t seem to breathe and he’s too close and he’s angry - “ _Do it_.”

And in a moment that Aziraphale will regret for the rest of her life, she does.

*

The effects aren’t awful immediately, because Aziraphale is a coward. There’s a shudder that seems to run through the whole of the ship, and then silence. Gabriel steps back, a satisfied expression on his face. He says “was that so hard?” and then he disappears. 

Crowley appears almost immediately after, and Aziraphale feels relieved, thinking, “that was a close thing,” and then absolutely horrible, because how can she care about being found out for fraternizing with a demon when she has just done a much more unforgivable thing? 

(Except that according to Gabriel {and Michael, and Uriel} it was _supposed_ to happen and no forgiveness is necessary. Aziraphale does not understand.)

“What just happened?” he asks. There’s no hint of panic in his voice. He has no idea. He’s just curious.

“Oh,” says Aziraphale, and she feels as though she’s going to be violently sick any moment now, “I’m not sure.”

Crowley looks at her, really looks, because she’s never been able to lie to him. But he doesn’t realize what really happened, he can’t have, because he just looks concerned.

“What’s wrong, angel?” he demands. “Who frightened you?”

Aziraphale scoffs.

“Frightened,” she says. “Ridiculous. I’m an angel of the Lord, Crowley, I do not get _frightened_.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” says Crowley, who does not believe her. “Just - if something big were going down, you’d tell me, right?”

“Of course,” says Aziraphale, and when he wanders away, apparently satisfied with the answer, she starts crying.

*

It is one of the most horrendous nights of her life. 

She stays on board, trying to help where she can, trying to find quiet places to multiply lifeboats and failing. She gives hugs and distributes as much peace as she can and tries to keep the tears at bay. She tries not to think about Crowley.

And she succeeds, until they’re loading up one of the last lifeboats. He turns up at her side, hands in his pockets, a haunted look in his eyes. 

“So this is why you were here,” he says quietly. “It was the ‘unsinkable’ bit, wasn’t it? Heaven just couldn’t take that, could they?”

“Oh, Crowley,” she says, voice breaking, and somehow finds herself crying into his shoulder. His arms, wiry but strong, wrap themselves around her and she is held tight and feels safer than she ever has. (Which is silly, because she is on a sinking ship with a demon hanging onto her, but that’s the way it is.) “I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“Shhh,” says Crowley, and his voice is raw, too. “‘Sn’t your fault.”

“But I - ”

“‘S those absolute **_wankers_** ,” he says, voice going harsh and vicious and shocking her a little bit, “that made you do it.”

“I did the miracle, though, Crowley, I - ”

“Didn’t do it until you had to,” says Crowley, and his voice is soft but full of conviction. He pulls away, holds her at arms’ length, and she tries to pretend that she doesn’t very much miss the warmth of his torso and the snugness of his arms. “Not your fault, angel. It’s not your fault.”

“Well - thank you,” she whispers, feeling overwhelmed with grace she does not deserve. “That’s not - you don’t - I’m so _sorry_ \- ”

“I know,” says Crowley, looking past her to something on the deck. He’s quiet for a minute, and when he speaks again he sounds properly choked up. “Me, too.”

She turns to see what he’s looking at, and follows his line of sight to a purple-haired doll lying, abandoned, on the deck. 

“‘S how it goes, I guess,” says Crowley, letting go of her and taking a couple long strides to pick it up. “You’d think we’d be used to it by now.” He looks at the doll contemplatively for a moment and then turns to her. “Well,” he says, puffing his cheeks and blowing out air. “This is it, then.”

“Indeed,” says Aziraphale somberly. “I’m not meant to fly away, I don’t think.”

“I’m not meant to be on board,” says Crowley ruefully. “Still, ‘m glad I came. Worth it, I think.”

“You can’t mean to - there’s still space!” says Aziraphale, staring first at him and then at the - 

Last boat. The very last one.

“There is,” agrees Crowley, and he’s looking at her in a way she thinks she understands and knows she does not want to. “Just a little, though. Just for you.”

“No!” says Aziraphale, appalled at the thought. “No, not without you, Crowley! No!” 

“Give that to her if you see her, will you?” says Crowley roughly, thrusting the doll into her hands and taking her by the shoulders. 

She starts to struggle. 

“No!” she cries. “No, no!” 

But he’s relentless, and she’s used a lot of her strength tonight, and he guides her over to the last of the lifeboats. There is just barely space, and she tries to put up enough of a fight that someone else can get in, fill up the space, before she does. 

Crowley spins her around to face him and meets her eyes. She can feel her eyes are welling up with tears. 

“You’ve got to go,” he says firmly. “You can - help. You can help, without getting into tr - you can help. And you’ve never been discorporated, and believe me, angel, you don’t want to be. Now get in the bloody lifeboat.” 

And he sweeps her up and deposits her into it with such tenderness that she starts crying harder. 

“Please,” she says, so emotionally overwrought that she doesn’t care that she’s begging. “Please come with me. Please let me stay with you. Please, Crowley, _please_ …”

“Bye, angel,” says Crowley, and kisses the back of her hand. “See you ‘round.” 

And then he lets go of her and backs up and sticks his hands back in his pockets and she and the other weeping people in the boat are lowered into the water.

She stares at the redheaded figure on the deck, who is watching the grim proceedings with very practiced, very forced casualness, and her vision blurs when he raises his hand to give a final, lackadaisical wave.

She watches, eyes blurring with tears, until he’s out of sight, and then she clutches the doll to herself for a moment, wipes her eyes, and sets about keeping everyone in the boat alive.

**Author's Note:**

> :(


End file.
